Dystopia
by Jimmy Rose
Summary: A Story about two friends who have been imagining their whole lives what it would be like if the dead walked the earth. Now that it's actually happening, let's see if they have what it takes to make it out alive.


Dystopia

Chapter 1

Roger had always thought about what he would do, where he would go, if there was an outbreak of zombies. All in fun of course; he knew there was no way that any of that could _really_ happen anyway, right?... Video games and movies portrayed an aspiring adventure for survival and continuation of humanity; But he knew reality wouldn't allow it. Well perhaps on this particular night, the laws of reality were bent. Maybe science no longer existed; or maybe it's science that caused the whole incident to occur. Either way, from this night on everything he had been planning in fiction was going to be put to the test in a real life scenario that he thought he would enjoy. In a position of life and death our humanistic instincts kick in and battle for survival is naturally playing in your head to go on to the next day. Lets see if Roger can blend his intelligence and his instincts together to save himself from this impossible incident.

He rolled over to check the clock on the dresser. His eyes were hazy and he could hardly collect himself enough to read the red digital letters that were in the pitch black of his room. He squinted and his vision came together. 1:00 AM. He sighed and then sat up with his face in his hands. Rubbing his eyes, trying to get rid of the burning feeling in them. His throat was dry and his body was weak. The ringing in his ears was fading now and the room was more visible than a few seconds earlier. Turning his body to the left to get out of his bed was more than a chore at this point. Stumbling out of his room gaining momentum through the hallway trying to reach the light switch. The small knob was nearly invisible in the current lighting of the hallway. At last, he had found it. After all the stumbling about, and random hand slaps at different heights of the wall. He flipped the switch and instantly his eyes shut nearly completely. Roger Groaned in pain for the well being of his eyes. He decided it was better to find the refrigerator in the darkness of the house. Opening the fridge, he realized before he opened it completely that there was nothing in there to get rid of the pain in his throat. Nothing but a carton of aged milk and a pint of white rice that had molded since the two or three months it had been sitting there.

Now his stomach growled and his throat was so dry that it became hard to breathe. He rolled his eyes and grabbed his keys. There was a Wendy's right down the street where Roger could fulfill all of his needs in a single run. It was damp outside and when he took the first step off of the porch onto the grass he almost fell on his ass, but instead he wobbled oddly with one of his legs completely out in front of him and his right arm was stretched out behind him grazing the grass. The near accident infuriated him to the point where he wished the wet grass was a physical being so he could beat the living shit out of it. "I don't know why all this fuckin bullshit has to happen to me." He mumbled. His keys rattled loudly in dead silence while he searched for the one that would grant him entrance into his 1988 ford aero star. An absolute dinosaur of vans for today's daily driver. It was a rusted, beaten, leaky, squeaky, piece of crap; And Roger wouldn't give a flying fuck if it blew up, as long as he wasn't in it.

Turning over the engine was another chore his did not feel like dealing with at this point. All he wanted was a cheeseburger and a large coke after all. Why must _he_ have to deal with any of this crap anyway? The engine turned over, and the check engine light came on as it always did. Driving down the road in pitch black, he had noticed a lot of people walking very eerily. With little direction to boot. One of the people walking was crossing in between two backyards, starting from the front yard of the person that lived about 9 houses west of Roger. It was too dark to see what they were doing. There were no street lights or stop lights in Rogers neighborhood. It was a run down ghetto part of town where the only people down the streets that knew each other were for buying and selling drugs, and not the petty kinds. Yet strange things happened all the time in this neighborhood, so why should it be so strange that 5 or 6 people are wandering aimlessly through his street. They were probably going to rob some ones house or something. As long as it wasn't his, it was fine with him.

Pulling into the Wendy's this time was different. The lights were all off there was no one inside it seemed to be. No cars in the parking lot, at least not on this side of it. Then he remembered the clock at his house and suddenly his face turned red. " 1 am...1 FUCKING AM! FUCK!" He screamed whilst beating his steering wheel that was already clinging to life down to its last turns. The realization that it was 1 am, and that Wendy's closed at 12 was what topped his night off so to speak. Then he lifted his head, remembering the 24 hour McDonalds across the street from the Wendy's. It wasn't a Wendy's meal but it was something at least. He drove around the opposite side of the restaurant to get to the exit that led directly across to the street to his next destination.

It was the loudest scream he had ever heard in his life. Louder than what he thought a sonic boom would sound like. The singular street light in the parking lot was directly over a black buick at the very end of the lot. The screams source came from there. It looked like someone was smacking the car from the other side. He pulled up next to the car and saw a man trying desperately to drag a woman out of the car. Rogers eyes got wide and his heart sank. "Leave her the fuck alone!" Roger shouted. The man with blood all over his neck and jaw kept grabbing at her and got her out of the car onto the ground. "OH MY GOD! HELP ME PLEASE!" Her voice cracked at that high of a pitch. Roger lunged into the floorboard of the van and grabbed his maglite. A gurgling sound could be heard from that direction. Roger leaped out of the passenger door and ran at the man and smashed the back of his skull completely in. The blood was black, and chunky, the gaping hole in the man's skull bore a clear view of what the human brain looked like. A line of what looked like black drool hung from the butt of the .

The vomit almost came up when he looked at the dead man lying motionless on the pavement. He turned to the girl laying next to the dead man. He had ripped her whole throat out, and the arteries hanging out of her neck that were still pumping blood slowed to a halt. Roger bent over and purged all over both of the corpses, and then again after he looked a second time. Leaning forward breathing heavily with spit smeared all over his lips, he felt light headed and a need to sit. He straightened his back at stumbled to the passenger seat of his van to collect himself a minute. He closed his eyes and dug his hand into his pocket to grab his cell phone. Then he heard Sirens and opened his eyes and looked up with a look of confusion on his face. "That couldn't possibly be for this. It just happened." The sirens grew nearer and nearer. Roger looked in the street to see a man stumbling across the street from McDonalds, It looked as if he was staring directly at Roger. The police were right around the corner now south bound, and he was sure that he was going to jail since both of them were dead and no witnesses to the incident besides possibly the stumbling drunk man from across the way.

The Drunken man was now in the north bound lane headed right for Roger. He got out of the van and waved the man over. "Hey I need your help! Something really bad just happened!" Roger shouted with his hands cupped like a makeshift megaphone over his mouth. Roger looked to his right and saw the squad car drive over the median and drive the opposite direction in the north bound lane. The car slammed into the drunken guy at least 70 miles per hour, taking one and a half of the man's legs underneath the car and the other half of his body went flying over the car spinning rapidly and finally smacking down face first on the street. Blood covered the car and gave the impression of a misshapen racing stripe on the hood. The Squad car kept on driving, now back in the south bound lane. Rogers mouth dropped. He couldn't even move to go help the man, even though he knew he had to be dead.

A shuffling noise came from the right of roger, where the two mutilated bodies lie. He looked over his shoulder and was staring the woman that had just had her neck half way removed in the eyes. She grabbed his shirt and pulled herself closer too him with her mouth wide open. He used his left hand to push her face backward. The thrust made her loose the grip on his shirt and she fell down on her side, then slowly got back to her feet. Roger was shaking now, no, trembling in absolute terror. He jumped back into the van and tried to turn the engine over. No good. He looked over to the girl and she was now on her feet shuffling her feet toward him. He looked forward into the street and saw the man who had just been run over with his head up looking at Roger yet again, snarling and dragging his body across the street with his hands. The engine turned over as the woman had her arm in the van trying to pull herself in.

Roger grabbed the shifter and threw it into drive. The tires screeched, and this surprised him due to the fact that he had never been able to even get the van above 55 mph. He pulled out into the street and drove around the half of a man laying in the street. He sped toward his home and was thinking of an impossible scenario. "They were fucking dead! what the hell is going on. This kind of shit isn't real! Am I going crazy? Those people couldn't have been dead. This is all so FUCKED UP!" He saw people running in the streets in his neighborhood now, mixed in with the ones that were walking aimlessly, but he noticed that now they had a destination; The people that were running.

He threw the van in park still in the road in front of his house, ripping the keys out of the ignition and leaping out of the van. The door to his house was locked he remembered so he fumbled with the keys for a second still shivering. Once inside he dead bolted the door and locked the handle. Screaming was pouring in from all directions outside. He grabbed his brothers military backpack that had been given to him six months ago after his brother died in the army rangers. It was still filled with all kinds of things that could be used for makeshift living outside of the house. It was heavy to lift but once you get it on and have the frame secured it was quite easy to carry. There was also a hand-me-down .22 his father gave him in his closet with a half filled box of long rifles that he hadn't used previously.

"I never thought I would need these things for the exact reason that they are in here for." He put his head in his hands, and then lifted it with his eyes wide with realization. "Oh shit! I wonder if Frank knows!" Frank was his best friend since middle school. When they had played Resident evil 2 for the first time in the 8th grade, they had become instantly obsessed with zombies. Well, not so much the zombies as the survival aspect involved. They had always believed it was exciting and amazing to live in a chaotic world where flesh eating once-humans roamed the states and it was a free for all for everyone to live. But if Roger was correct, he would take ever wishing this conflict would happen back.

The .22 held 14 rounds in the stock, and was quite accurate. Roger shot it all the time at his uncles house on the other coast. He was a pretty decent shot too. Loading the gun was however a pain in the ass. As he was trying to do it in his room that exact moment he felt like breaking it against the wall. You had to pull out the pipe at the end of the stock, insert a bullet into the feed near the trigger on the stock, then use the pipe to push the bullet into place. This was a repetitive method, and he prayed he had the time to do this. The backpack was not as heavy as he remembered when he first received it. When he put it on unfastened it was a little uncomfortable but he knew the MOLLIE II was an improvement on the ALICE and was made for comfort unlike its predecessor. The rifle had little to now weight anyhow so when he held it, there was almost no difference in his stance.

Three gunshots fired outside in crashendo. Looking through the windows in the front of his house he saw a fat man in a bathrobe gunning down everyone he saw run by him. He had two handguns, that looked like 9mm's but Roger wasn't about to ask him. A child no older than 13 ran to him yelling for help. The kid clenched his leg, and the men face turned to frightened disgust. Fat man kicked the child loose from his leg and put a round right through his head. Rogers eyes must have changed to a shade of red when he saw him shoot the little boy. Roger almost instantly raised the gun to his shoulder and put one in the chamber. He followed the man around the yard, watching him through the window. When the man stood still and raised his gun up to shoot a woman that was trying to get into her car on the opposite side of the street, Roger squeezed the trigger and put a round right in the fat old bastards sternum. Fat man turned and looked through the window at him, and Roger put another one through his throat. The old man dropped the guns at his side and fell to the floor clenching his throat.

Opening the door, the outside environment got infinitely louder. There were sirens going off everywhere. A house that was a street over was completely in flames. It lit up the whole street and you could see who was alive and who was...well...who was half-alive. Not three steps out the door and a man peeked around the corner and locked eyes with Rogers. When the man became fully visible, it looked like someone had cut his belly open and pulled out the intestines for all to see hanging, and then used the knife to stab him in the heart. The knife was still in there by the way. Roger wanted to conserve as much ammunition for the time being as possible, so he rushed the man and caved his head in from eye level up with the butt of his rifle. There was little to no blood coming from the wound, only gray matter. He figured all the blood in the mans body drained when his belly was cut.

Sprinting wasn't the word for it. more like if he were trying to run across a whole lake like this, it would work. He wanted that fat mans guns, but didn't want to sacrifice time. The instant he reached the fat man he pounded his face with the rifle, but it dint break like the half-alives, he figured it was deterioration that had gotten to them first. They were 9mm. And very nice ones to boot. Roger didn't even want to look at the boy, he knew he would waste more time beating the already dead fat man if he did. While running for the van he fidgeted for the keys off of his belt loop. He slammed the door, and turned the van over instantly. It had never worked for him before like that. And not a moment too soon, there was an arm reaching in the driver side window gripping the steering wheel. Another one joined in on the action and started to climb through the window on the passenger side. Roger took off down the street leaving both of them behind, cutting the corner to the left and then an immediate right onto the closest main road, headed in the direction of Franks house.

The roads on this side of the block had much more traffic than the side he had come face to face with his first half-alive. Since all of the police were driving more erratically and senselessly than all of the other people on the street, Roger thought he would push the limits of safety on the road. Little time was to spare in a situation like this, the only person that Roger had a relationship with of any kind in this city may be being attacked, or worse, it had all ready been done and over with. Thoughts like that were better left un-thought of. It was the best choice right now for him to make. Saving the only person that could or would really help him was all that mattered at this stage. _I wonder if any of those old bastards in Frank's community would have any weapons. _He doubted it though. They were all retirees that could hardly walk, let alone try to fire a weapon with any kind of balls. _There has to be somewhere I can get to for more guns. Actually, I need to find a place where I can get all the shit I need to keep going. _

A large SUV had swerved out of nowhere into the lane next to Roger, nearly clipping the back passenger side of his van. He jerked the Ford out of reflex and almost hydroplaned from the recent showers that were all to potent in causing accidents from all the oil that had dried on the roads to loosen up and catch drivers off guard quite often. It wasn't all that difficult to get it steady again. He had after all gotten used to regaining composure for that exact reason. The turn was coming up and Roger had it set in his mind that he didn't give a fuck about the gate around the entrance. He was going to drive straight through it. The second the turn had begun, Roger slammed the breaks in front of about 15 to 20 of the zombies. _I guess not being able to get around normally makes you an easy target for the starving dead. _Their faces were pale, wrinkled, and covered with fluids.

He threw the van in reverse and backed up all the way to the corner of the other street. The gas pedal had probably never been put to the floor before on this thing, but it was almost going through it this time. A high pitched screeching came from the wet tires, and it finally caught a grip on the road. Three of the elderly reanimated had been crushed completely under the van, and a fourth was stuck on the front. It's torso was on the grill, and his head and arms were placed helplessly on the hood of the van. On impact of the fence the things body was smashed completely. Two limbs and It's noggin went drifting over the top of the aero star making pattering noises when they hit the ground behind. The gate was completely destroyed. One half of it was laying in the middle of the road, while the other half sat mangled and unfunctional in its original position.

_That thing had a shitload of blood in it! _Blood was all over the place. The windshield was almost no longer see through. Franks house wasn't that deep into the community so hopefully it would be an in and out kind of deal. Pulling in was almost horrifying. There were no lights inside the house, and the front door was open wide. Silhouettes were creeping around on the inside. The van sat in park still in the road with the engine running. He wanted to be out of there as soon as possible. The gun was pressed against his shoulder and he checked twice to make sure the safety was off. Light steps were not required for this. Roger trudged into the house and followed the shadows with the barrel of the .22. "If you can understand me, raise your hand and then get on the floor!" Not one of them raised their hands, but they did change direction, and were now headed toward him. "FRANK! ARE YOU IN HERE!" A loud clunk came from outside. "I'm out here dude!"

The sound of Franks voice made Rogers heart sink. Walking outside he looked up, and saw a short patch of blonde hair and a stupid smirk. "I knew you'd get here fuckin sooner or later" Frank wiped the sweat off of his forehead. "Let me get down so we can get the fuck out of here." The face disappeared behind the edge of the roof. Stepping out farther onto the driveway he saw Frank crouching slightly dragging a ladder to the front of the house. "I used it to climb up here from the back of the house, and then pulled it up with me after I got to the top." He dropped the ladder down with little care for the well being of the tool and started to step down rapidly and oddly. A cigarette hung from his lips and a pear of sunglasses were hung on his crown. "Please tell me you have a lighter. I forgot to get mine before I went to the roof." Roger handed him a cheap see through yellow lighter and Frank lit it up with his hands shaking, but you could tell he was trying to keep his composure. "By the time I realized I couldn't light one, there were three of those fuckin things already in my house."

Roger had forgotten that there were zombies in the house. He looked over his shoulder and saw one dead set on him a couple yards away. The butt of the rifle was useful in these kinds of situations, but Roger thought he should try all methods first. He reared back with his right foot and nailed it right in the gut. It went stumbling backwards and busted its ass on the grass. _Wait...what the fuck? _"Is that your grandpa?" Roger screeched. "Yeah, I heard my grandma scream in the living room so I ran out to see what was going on. One of them had her by the hair and started attacking her. I noticed that the door was open and that people covered in blood were shuffling their feet toward my door. I tried to get him off of her, but she was dead by the time I had gotten close enough to do anything." Frank closed his eyes, and rubbed them with his index finger and his thumb. "I guess one had walked all the way into my grandparents room before anyone had even noticed that there was someone in the house and attacked my grandpa."

Moans were coming from every direction, and death was almost certain if they decided to stay any longer. "Hey man, lets get the fuck out of here. We have to find a place to stay." Frank had struggled to blurt out. They ran to the van, and took off back towards the gate that Roger had previously demolished. Roger had remembered something out of a great movie that he had watched many times in the past. " Lets go to the mall." Roger exclaimed. " Everything we need is there. We can go to the two story parking garage and lock the gate to the ramp to the second level. They leave the lock and chain wrapped around the diamond link gate all day." He had remembered this from one of his fantasies that he had of this very scenario. He noticed it walking in one day and thought it could be a useful tactic in this situation. "What the fuck ever man, anywhere but here is fine with me."

The gas gauge read E and the closest gas station was still a few miles off. Roger didn't even want to mention it to Frank. He figured he would let him know once they got there so there was less stress. More and more cars were appearing on the streets. Fires were a regular sight at this point and accidents were also very reoccurring now. Frank hadn't said a word since his reply to the mall idea. It was probably best for them to wait a few minutes to collect themselves before conversation was reinstated . Roger turned on the radio to see if there was information on what to do.

_"Please stand by for instructions on this State of emergency..."_


End file.
